


Wunjo

by regina_stellaris



Category: Warcraft (2016)
Genre: Begging, Brain Damage, Caretaking, Established Relationship, Happy Ending, Head Injury, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Optimism, Pre-Slash, Tears, Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-23
Updated: 2016-11-23
Packaged: 2018-09-01 17:30:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8632213
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/regina_stellaris/pseuds/regina_stellaris
Summary: With a sigh, Lothar takes the cloth and wipes away the small string of drool hanging from the corner of Khadgar's mouth. He smiles through it, even if the sight of his lover staring into nothingness tears him apart on the inside. But he does not give up. Instead takes up the spoon and dips it into the mush, blowing on it so that it isn’t as hot, before he gently guides the cutlery into Khadgar’s mouth. Khadgar swallows slowly, yes, but he swallows on his own accord. It shouldn’t make Lothar as giddy as it does, but his optimism needs to be nourished by something, since he does not -- cannot -- allow himself to give up on Khadgar just yet. Even if it costs him everything he has.
  After taking a blow to the head, Khadgar is basically brain dead. The only one who doesn't think so is Lothar.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Tybir](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tybir/gifts).



> For Tybir, who needs some cheering up. Thank you for the prompt.

With a sigh, Lothar takes the cloth and wipes away the small string of drool hanging from the corner of Khadgar's mouth. He smiles through it, even if the sight of his lover staring into nothingness tears him apart on the inside. But he does not give up. Instead takes up the spoon and dips it into the mush, blowing on it so that it isn’t as hot, before he gently guides the cutlery into Khadgar’s mouth. Khadgar swallows slowly, yes, but he swallows on his own accord. It shouldn’t make Lothar as giddy as it does, but his optimism needs to be nourished by something, since he does not -- _cannot_ \-- allow himself to give up on Khadgar just yet. Even if it costs him everything he has.

-

_Lothar watches with horror as Khadgar suddenly appears before him, a shield around his form, ready to catch the blow that is meant to take Lothar’s life. Orgrim Doomhammer has held nothing back in their fight, and Lothar’s seen it in the orc’s eyes that this very blow with the mighty weapon, which gave the Warchief his name , is meant to be his death sentence. He’s ready for it, closing his eyes, making his peace with the world. And then something comes between his head and the hammer, a sensation that Lothar knows all too well: magic. His eyes snap open, only to see Khadgar practically throwing himself into the orc’s way. He will most likely never forget the sound the weapon made when it collides with Khadgar’s head instead._

_The shield somewhat reduces the might of the blow, but Khadgar is still flung away several metres. Lothar does not look to him, first taking this chance to ram his sword into the big creature, ending their onslaught once and for all. When Orgrim Doomhammer takes his last breath and the rest of his troop is nothing but dead bodies littering the ground, Lothar runs to Khadgar, who has blood gushing out of his wound like a fountain. Obviously, the magic absorbed the brunt of the attack, but something got through. Lothar waits until his medic has patched Khadgar up as good as he can, before he hands his broken sword to Turalyon and takes a gryphon to Lordaeron where the best priests reside. He just hopes that Khadgar can be saved._

_-_

“It is bathing day today,” Lothar says cheerfully. His hands shake as he carries Khadgar to the tub and removes his clothes. Noticing the way Khadgar’s hairs stand on end, he places a big warm blanket around his lover, drags him close and kisses him on the forehead. Khadgar starts to shiver, so Lothar hurries up. When the younger man is finally naked, he gently slides the almost lifeless body into the warm water, sees how Khadgar relaxes. Tense muscles become a soft pliant body once more, especially when Lothar runs his wet fingers over Khadgar’s cheek. It is slowly turning into a good day. “Having fun?” he asks with a smile in his voice when Khadgar’s breath gets harsher and small patterns chase each other over the water’s surface. Khadgar doesn’t react to his question, doesn’t seem to notice his presence at all, but the way his eyes glow in the dim light show Lothar everything he needs to know. He has become surprisingly good at reading the mage, since it is his only way to know what Khadgar wants. He bathes him slowly, gives Khadgar time to play with the water. He talks about his day, how the practice with the new recruits went, how the Alliance is stronger than ever. His body responds to Khadgar’s proximity, to the touches he showers his mage in, and he gets hard in his pants, but ignores it like so often these days. So occupied is he that he does not see Taria’s wounded gaze, does not see the way she pities him. He only notices her when she turns away and leaves.

-

_The injury damaged his brain, they say. Making it unlikely that Khadgar will ever be anything else than this lifeless shell. Lothar is devastated.He and the younger man only got a few days to be together before the fight, with Khadgar practically throwing himself at the warrior in a display of frantic lovemaking. They had fucked almost the entire night, and once more in the morning, but still it hadn’t been enough. Lothar hadn’t really planned ahead, so certain that he would die at some point. So …  there was that._

_Lothar’s head jerks up when he hears what the priests are going to do; they want to get a paladin in there to release Khadgar from his suffering and bring him to the Light. The commander’s answer is to draw his sword and aim it at the men, demanding they step away from his lover immediately. Afterwards, he throws Khadgar over his shoulder and leaves, the younger man hanging over it like a sack of flour. But Lothar knows -- feels -- that his young lover is still in there. He knows Khadgar to be stronger than this._

_-_

“Anduin, please.” Taria is crying. “Please, stop this. You’re destroying yourself.” Turalyon stands behind her, Alleria Windrunner at his side. If Lothar hadn’t had eyes for his mage only, he would found her quite attractive. Now she is just a hindrance, interrupting him from taking care of his love.

Khadgar struggles against the table. He feels the atmosphere heavy with pity and sadness, and tries to get away. Lothar sees it in the way his eyes roam frantically without seeing, how his hands don’t stay still, instead twitching where they lie on the table. He puts one of his own on them, and their motions stop almost immediately. But Khadgar is still shaking like a leaf as Lothar observes sadly.

“Taria, I have told you already that I believe -- no, I _know_ that Khadgar is still in there. We have to give him time.”

“Anduin,” she says again, using the same tone she used when he told her Llane was dead. “Anduin, please, listen to me--”

“No, Taria.”

“Please, I beg you,” the Queen does something she has probably never done for anyone but their father. Lothar’s eyes widen when she kneels before him, her head bowed.

“Y-Your Majesty!” Turalyon stutters in shock, while Alleria just watches Lothar’s and Khadgar’s reaction. She notices the slight shift in Khadgar’s frame; how he sits a little straighter, pretends to be fine despite the drool hanging from his mouth. The only other person who sees it is Lothar, wiping away the drool absentmindedly, yet gently nonetheless.

“Anduin, I beg you,” Taria is crying. Lothar’s entire being is torn between caring for his sister or for his lover. “I can’t continue to watch you wither away, taking care of an empty shell. Please, let the paladin guide him to the Light.”

Lothar knows that this is the moment he has to make his choice. His sister --- or his lover. The knowledge that it takes him naught but a second to decide shatters his heart. “I’m sorry, Taria,” he says, “But I cannot give up just yet.”

She sobs, so he continues, “Imagine Llane sitting here.” It is cruel, but he has to make her understand just how much he loves the man sitting next to him, staring into nothingness. Just how much he is willing to do for him. “Imagine your husband being in the same condition as Khadgar. Would you give up on him that easily?”

Taria swallows, then looks up and shakes her head, her eyes wet with tears. “No.”

Lothar’s smile breaks her heart into a million pieces, “I will continue to care for him until he comes back to me. When that day comes, all my struggles will pay off, all my caring will have had a purpose. And until then, I won’t abandon Khadgar. Ever.”

The last word has a finality to it that surprises even Lothar himself. His thumb starts to stroke over the fine skin on Khadgar’s hand. The younger man doesn’t react at first, just stares out of the window, but after a moment or two, his pinky moves, copies the motion of Lothar’s thumb in jerky movements.

All people in the room see it. But not all take it as a sign of hope like Lothar does.

Nevertheless, Taria knows that her brother will not give up, not yet. If she thought that the deaths of Callan, Medivh and Llane had broken him, she stands corrected. A large contributor to this is Khadgar, and she also gathers that his death -- should he really die -- will shatter Lothar so thoroughly that he will most likely search for peace at the end of an orcish axe.

She stands up, exhausted, “Anduin. You have a month. If he has not made any progress by then, I will send for the paladin.” With that, she leaves with swirling robes, Alleria behind her. Only Turalyon lingers for a small moment, throws his former commander an apologetic look, before he, too, scatters.

Lothar releases the breath he hadn’t known he held, then looks at his lover. Drool trickles out of Khadgar’s mouth again, and the warrior wipes it away with a small cloth he keeps just for this occasion. “Khadgar,” he whispers. Khadgar does not react to his name, but his eyelids flutter. Lothar takes it as a sign that he has the younger man’s attention, “Please, come back to me. I know you are strong, stronger than any other person I’ve ever met. I don’t want to lose you.” He swallows the tears, has to suppress them so harshly that he can taste them. His face breaks into a smile instead, “I love you.”

-

_With the threat against the Horde gone for the moment, Lothar can take a small reprieve from his position as commander of the joined Alliance forces. He becomes a caretaker instead; moves in with Khadgar and cares for him, hands him food and sets out his sleeping clothes at night and his morning clothes the next day. On the bad nights he bathes him. On the really bad nights he lets Khadgar go to sleep in his day clothes.He reads to him -- old dusty tomes from the library who smell of parchment -- makes sure that their quarters always smell of Khadgar’s favorite scents, those of the library he once has called home. Lothar is so occupied in caring for Khadgar that he forgets to care for himself._

_He does not realize it when his sister looks at him with concern and sadness in her eyes, nor does he see it when Turalyon tries to look anywhere but at him. The moment he gets it is when he finds himself too weak to carry Khadgar to the bed after a particularly bad day. He struggles, his chest hurting with every breath he takes. Khadgar is thrashing around in his arms, something he does sometimes when the day is particularly daunting. Lothar needs every ounce of strength to make him lie down and fall asleep, before he finally takes a good look into a mirror. He does not recognize the shell of a man staring back. It is then that he vows to always care for himself as well. He reminds himself with small notes when to eat, when to sleep, when to get some fresh air. At some point he even starts to work out in their small room, the one they’re sharing, because no one else would be able to provide Khadgar with the care he needs. After a few weeks, he is back to his old self. He has lost a little weight still, but gained new muscle to make up for it. He even lets Taria trim his hair and beard, before he goes to do the same with Khadgar. And if the mage’s gaze lingers a little longer on his frame than usual, he doesn’t notice._

-

It’s a stormy day when it finally happens. Lothar sits on a stool next to the bed in which Khadgar lies, a wet cloth on his head. He’s running a low fever and has to be supervised. The warrior is a little sad, since today would have been their walking day, one of many where they stride through the lush gardens of the palace of Lordaeron. But the weather went to shit moments after he realized that Khadgar had a fever anyway, so now they’re staying inside to do something else.

Lothar is reading a daunting story to Khadgar about dwarfs and their rune magic, thunder raging outside, when he notices the motion. Khadgar’s head is moving towards him slowly. He sees it from the corner of his eye. Just as slowly, he himself moves his head towards the mage, and is surprised when he has brown eyes staring at him. Not staring through him, or into nothingness, but _at him_. He smiles. “Do you need something?” He asks it softly. Khadgar’s gaze doesn’t waver, he doesn’t even blink. A flush spreads across his face, and something tells Lothar that it has nothing to do with the fever.

“Anduin,” Khadgar whispers, his voice hoarse. The book falls from Lothar’s grasp.

He is on the bed next to his lover in mere seconds, tries to hold himself back, but he can’t. “Khadgar?” His eyes are full of unshed tears.

Khadgar slowly lifts his hand and sets it on Lothar’s cheek, stroking his thumb over the stubble . “You trimmed your beard.”

A laugh bubbles out of Lothar before he can help it. Tears stream down his cheeks as he presses Khadgar’s hand against the rough skin. “Yes, yes I did.”

“Don’t shave,” Khadgar’s voice is slow, but steady. The wet washcloth falls from his face, “You look … better … with a beard …”

As gently as he can in his enthusiasm, Lothar wraps an arm around Khadgar and hugs him tightly, unable to keep himself from sobbing into his shoulder. “Oh Light, Khadgar,” he gets out, “I thought I’d lost you!”

“What … what happened?”

“You … you don’t remember?” Lothar breaks away from his young lover to look at him in mortification, then in some anger. He tries to hide it, but Khadgar sees it all the same. He flinches. And Lothar hates himself for it, “Don’t be scared. I’m only a little bit angry at you.” He sighs, “Please, Khadgar, promise me one thing. Never. Take. A blow. For me. Again.”

“I … took the blow?” Khadgar’s thumb wipes a tear or two away. Lothar dries the rest.

“Yes, you did,” he says calmly. He needs to be calm right now, or he will explode. “Doomhammer wanted to smash my head in. He got you instead. But he didn’t manage to kill you with the magical barrier around you, so he just … injured you -- your head.”

Khadgar swallows, “How long … was I out?”

Lothar’s takes a steadying breath, “... You were gone for almost four months.”

Khadgar’s breath stutters. His other hand comes up to drag over his face. It is slow, as if Khadgar has to become familiar with his body once again. Lothar places a sweet kiss in his hair. “Your body feels weird right now, right?”

“... Yes … it does … how did you … know?”

“I’ve been taking care of you for a long time,” Lothar grins a little, “There is not much I don’t know about your body anymore.”

The mage would’ve smiled at the innuendo, but he doesn’t. Instead, his hand searches Lothar’s and presses it in gratitude. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” there are tears in Lothar’s eyes again, but this time, they’re tears of joy. “I love you.”

“Anduin,” Khadgar says softly. “I love you … too.”

-

Taria makes her way to her brother. The month is up, and she knows he will be heartbroken, but she needs to do this if she wants to save him from himself. This time, she won’t take no for an answer.

As she nears his room, she hears his voice, soothing and gentle as it always is with Khadgar. It breaks her heart to have to do this, but Lothar needs to accept that his mage is gone. He has been gone since that day at Black Rock. It is rather morbidly ironic that this Pass has already taken his son, and will now claim his lover as well. Taria wants to scream,  run away from her responsibility as Queen and Sister, but she can’t. Thus she opens the door to Lothar’s room gently and steps inside.

What she sees makes her stop entirely, not knowing what to think at first -- before happiness fills her being so thoroughly that she thinks she will collapse.

Her brother is lying on the bed, one hand holding a book while his free arm is wrapped around Khadgar. The young mage looks at Lothar as if he is his universe, and snuggles deeper into the embrace, albeit with a little struggle. Lothar laughs happily, and drags Khadgar even closer to him, showing him the book.

“What rune is this? In the lower left corner?”

“This is … Wunjo … it means … joy …” Khadgar’s voice is slow and deliberate. At first Taria thinks it is because of his injury, but then she realizes that the young mage wanted to get his point across. “My joy is looking … at you, Anduin.”

“And mine is looking at you, Khadgar.” Her brother kisses Khadgar on the lips then, sweet and innocent. Khadgar squeals when Lothar’s beard drags over his sensitive neck. “I love you.”

“I love you too, Anduin.”

They kiss again, calm and full of love.

Taria turns around and closes the door behind her. She has seen enough. It seems that Khadgar does not feel comfortable enough yet to come out of his shell around others, but there is only one person that matters right now, anyway. As long as Khadgar makes Lothar happy, she can wait for him. She _will_ wait for him.

Her pace considerably lighter, Taria steps into the night and smiles towards the stars. Everything is well in the end.

**Author's Note:**

> A big thank you to TheCookieOfDoom for betaing!


End file.
